


Beyond Us

by Sembell



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: Angst, Insecurity, Love, Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:37:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sembell/pseuds/Sembell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves - William Shakespeare</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Us

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I hope you enjoy this little fic :) Would love to get to know you better, so if you're on tumblr, I'm @sembell there :)  
> The main problem is that English is not my native language, as you will notice while reading... but I'm trying my best, as always!

It hadn't been the worst way to spend a weekend. If someone had asked him 15, 10 or even 5 years ago - and a lot of people actually did in all these years - if he would ever attend to a convention, the answer would always be no. Conventions – weird people, big crowds, boring questions. Too many hands to shake, too many stupid pictures to sign, too many sobbing girls losing the last bit of what was left of their sanity at the sight of someone they have only seen on their screens before. That's what he was thinking a few years ago at least. Now, it was becoming increasingly more fun to meet all of these people who were supporting him, most of them for many years, even though he still sometimes felt something like a zoo animal.

As much as he'd tried to enjoy the Philadelphia Wizard World Comic Con, and eventually did to some extent, his mind and heart had been somewhere else.  The knowledge that he wouldn't find her in his bed on Tuesday morning left his stomach in knots and his heart aching, even though he had said his goodbyes not even two days ago.

He had sent her a message on Saturday, aware that she was still on stage but wanting to let her know his thoughts were with her on the evening of her very last performance as Blanche. He had never sent her that many _I love you_ ‘s in one single message before, but he really wanted to remind her of all the things he whispered into her ear when he had visited her in her dressing room a few nights before he left for Europe.

_I'm so unbelievably proud of you._

_I can’t believe I just witnessed you making your dream come true._

_I think I have never been more in love with you than right now, after seeing you overcome your greatest fears and doubts_.

Yes, he'd indeed sounded a little too corny for David Duchovny, but with her, he wasn't the man he didn't want to be. While this fact had driven him crazy back in 1998, it was now incredibly important to him, especially considering his development in the last three years since he had convinced her to give him a second and last chance.

Having a pretty good vision of how she would spend the night of their last performance, he hadn't expected her to reply to his messages before Monday. It was around 3am when his phone buzzed on the nightstand beside his hotel bed, pulling him out of a peaceful, dreamless slumber. He aimlessly reached over and needed a few tries to get hold of the phone before it vibrated a second time. He squinted his eyes as he pushed the home button and unlocked the device by entering the date he got his last chance. Pretty sappy too, but for the once biggest asshole on the planet an important, daily reminder of how fucking lucky he was.

Her first message was a short _I need you._ For her, that was blatantly admitting that she wasn't in a good place. The second text eased his nerves a little, because _I need you to fuck me_ sounded a lot more like a Gillian who maybe wanted the company of someone she trusted and appreciated deeply, but was overall doing okay.

He was about to reply as a third message came in. _Please come home and make love to me._

David raised his eyebrows and bit into his upper lip. It had been a very emotional evening for her. Of course it had. She had worked her ass off on this stage in the last couple of weeks. The sight of her bruised, emaciated body had left him dumbstruck for a good minute when he first saw her after his European Tour.   

It was only natural for her to be so torn between sadness, happiness and utter exhaustion. Her messages reflected those mixed feelings very well - despair, desire, longing. She had become pretty good in letting him know how she was, even if it still took her a few tries to express it. The question was how to respond properly to a bunch of very diverse requests from the woman you loved.

It was slowly getting dark outside when he drove the elevator up to his apartment on Sunday evening. He hadn’t planned on coming back before Monday, but those three messages seemed too urgent to just dismiss with another _I can’t wait to see you again._ In too many weeks from now.

No. Gillian stating she needed something meant she really needed something. And he could count the number of times that had happened over the last twenty years on one hand. Not that she’d never needed anything before, it was more like that she’d rarely express it. To him, for that matter.

He had tried to call her a few times since receiving her messages, but to no avail. Which made sense since it was a typical reaction from Gillian. Avoiding and forgetting, that was what she liked to do in such a situation, even after all these years. And most importantly, she wanted to prevent him from coming to her by not answering his calls until it was too late.

But this time, she wouldn’t be able to avoid and hide from him, although she had done a pretty good job covering her tracks. He had to call her assistant to find out she’d enjoyed a few drinks with her in a bar in Brooklyn before taking a cab back to her hotel, only to tell the driver to head towards Central Park West, which Alison had overhead only by accident.

And people wondered why they still denied being in a romantic relationship, even though they’re behavior had been fairly unambiguous in the last couple of months. If they only knew how hard it was – how hard it had always been for them. Nothing had ever been simple. And yet, they were in this committed, romantic relationship for over 2 years now. He would tell anyone how happy he was if it wouldn’t mean being harassed by journalists and paparazzi. Having no problem with telling people he loved her but couldn’t in order to protect his relatives was one of the harder things that came with his last chance, and therefore with this relationship.  

The reason for their happiness now was their long and intense past. He was very aware of the fact that this was the weirdest relationship he’d ever been in, but it was also the most intimate one.

And now, as he stepped out of the elevator and into the private landing area of his apartment, the smell of fried meat filled his nose and he chuckled involuntarily. Only Gillian would come to her boyfriend’s apartment on the last night in New York to use his kitchen. He couldn’t wait to find out what else she’d intended to use tonight.

David walked further into the hallway and put his backpack on a wooden bench, right in between two pillows. A pretty little souvenir from Gillian’s last trip to India.

There were no sounds coming out of the kitchen and he made a quick check, only to find it empty, before he headed towards the living room on the other side of his apartment.

He spotted her immediately through the open casement door, standing on his balcony and looking out over Central Park. Her elbows were resting on the handrail and her posture was slightly bent forward, which made her appear even tinier. She wasn’t wearing any pants and it was only when he walked over the threshold that he realized she was wearing one of his beloved vegetable shirts. The _beets_ shirt to be precise, which he’d worn on Thursday and which looked way better on her. His eyes wandered down to her bare legs and he noticed a new, dark blue bruise in the middle of her upper thigh.

“ _Beets_ me why you’re preferring to keep this little party a secret,” he said and at the same time closed the distance between them by putting his right arm around her slim waist.

She startled and turned instantly in his arm with a frightened expression on her face. Out of shock, she’d squeezed the burger she was holding between her hands and a few droplets of mayonnaise landed on his shirt.

“Fuck, David!” she exclaimed as part of a long exhale.  

Gathering her to his chest, he kissed the top of her head before looking at her face. Her heart was beating fast and her pupils were still dilated when she stepped out of his embrace and started to wipe the mayo off of the shirt she was wearing.

“You scared me,” she grumbled through gritted teeth, rubbing the material harder as she realized the sauce would leave a stain on it.

“You broke into my apartment, I should be the one who’s scared,” he replied and laughed, stroking her back reassuringly. “You can find the best burgers in this city but you rather wanted to make your own in my kitchen?” he added, still chuckling while watching her carefully. She looked tired and drained and didn’t seem to be in the mood for his smart-ass remarks. He stopped laughing and took the napkin out of her hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, trying to get her to look up at him. “It’s alright. Take it off and I’ll put some dish soap on it.”

She let go of the napkin and stared at her burger. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Not for breaking into my apartment, not for the stain, and certainly not for those messages.” Saying this as softly as possible, he’d expected a different reaction from her than her rolling her eyes and pushing him aside as she walked back into the living room. It was so hard to read her sometimes, especially when she was annoyed by her own actions.

“I didn’t break in, I’ve got my own key-card,” she said coolly and put the remnants of her burger onto a plate sitting on top of the coffee table between his couch and TV. He hadn’t noticed before that the TV was on and that she had already prepared a few of her favorite snacks, carefully lined up in a few different bowls also on the coffee table.

He followed her, ready to say something nice as she reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over her head in one swift motion, revealing her naked body right in the middle of his living room. Not that it was the first time, by all means. However, he stopped in his tracks and had to blink a few times to realize that she was indeed real.

“You’re staring,” she remarked before throwing the shirt in his direction. She wandered off before he could reply anything, napkin in one hand and the shirt pressed into his chest.

Deciding to give her a moment to herself, he walked back into the kitchen and rubbed some dish soap into the mayonnaise on his shirt and left it on the countertop to soak before he would put in the hamper.

It was a warm night and it reminded him of all the nights they’d spent standing on this balcony, watching people walk into and out of Central Park. Once they’d tried to get into his hammock together, but failed miserably. It had been one of the funniest nights of his life, even though he’d hit his head pretty hard.

Memories like this one always put a smile on his face, because they made him realize that, despite everything – the weird lifestyle and relationship –, they’re still a pretty normal couple having a lot of fun together.

“David?” she asked quietly as she emerged behind him a few minutes later, this time clad in _kale._

He smiled gently and reached out to pull her into an embrace. “What’s the matter, Gilly-bean?” he asked as his arms went around her back and she snuggled her head into his chest.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry for being like this.”

“Nah, it’s alright. There’s nothing better than knowing you wanted to spend some time in my home on your last day. That’s kind of sweet.”

“I meant that I ignored your calls after my… little breakdown last night. I’m just feeling so incredibly melancholic,” she sighed, and rubbed her right eye before putting her hand on his chest.

“Hey, I don’t think this is the right time to be melancholic. Look what you’ve done in the last couple of weeks. It might be normal to be exhausted, but you have every reason and right to be happy, and I can’t stand seeing you like this. You’re literally forcing yourself to be unhappy at this very moment, telling yourself you don’t deserve to feel happy and content with everything you did. And I won’t accept that. You can be proud of your success and you can look forward to be home soon. With Piper, Oscar and Felix. What’s better than that?” he asked with a soft voice and traced her cheekbone with his thumb.

She swallowed before looking at him. “It’s over,” she said. He frowned and pursed his lips as he was about to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. Realizing how she must’ve sounded, she reached up and ran her fingers over his beautiful face, her thumb caressing his soft bottom lip while she spoke. “The play. And my time in New York. Over,” Gillian added, but his expression hadn’t changed a bit, so she moved on. “I’m incredibly sad about this, no matter how much I’m looking forward to spend time with the kids. It means I won’t get to see you for such a long time. I won’t be able to just spend the night or drive by for a meal whenever we feel like it. We’ll be separated again, and it’s starting to eat me from the inside, David.”

He starred at her silently for a moment before slowly nodding his head. It wasn’t exactly news for him. He was very aware of what she was talking about. He felt it too, all the time. Mostly when he had to go to bed without her soft, warm body beside him. Without her giggles and low whispers, asking if he’s already asleep and if no, why not. 

He was happy with her. But he wondered.

How long would it take for the distance and longing to start gnawing at their hearts - eating away at the love they felt for each other?  


End file.
